Chapter Twelve
Ty
After ensuring Nial had safely returned the books from Petyr to their hiding spot in his own chambers, Ty led Ena back through the Great Antre to the passageway that led to the fighting ring on the mid-level.
He was itching to get his hands on an ax and hit some shit, especially after dealing with the clusterfuck that was the mines all morning.
Dev was great—he had a wealth of knowledge and good instincts—but he had trouble dealing with Cole. Ty seemed to be the only one who could get the bastard to budge and provide more resources to the miners, or convince him that exploring new areas of the undercaves was a good idea.
Cole had never had a mind for the mines or forge; his exclusive focus was on serving Iblis through missions.
And while Ty knew those missions were important for ensuring their Powers were granted by Iblis, he also knew that it came at a detriment to the innerworkings of the Underworld and all the other important aspects of running an entire community underground.
Lara had told him about the food shortages beginning in the mid-levels already, so they needed to keep up their production of metal goods in the forge so they’d have plenty to trade this winter when Cole sent daemons out on missions.
This was, of course, the way Ty preferred to do things, as opposed to Cole, who encouraged stealing from mortals instead.
But they couldn’t steal everything, and they couldn’t produce more goods without expanding the mines—certain areas were already depleted.
But the thing Ty resented the most was how necessary he was here, how much of a burden everything already felt, and he knew it would only get worse.
But he wanted to release that burden, at least for a little while, so he led Ena and Turner into the training facility.
It’d been a few months since he’d been here—not only because of the mission he’d been on, but also because before then, he’d been so consumed with research on the amulet he’d barely had the time. He couldn’t describe the relief he felt at having Ena’s help with the research side of things.
Besides, he knew she’d be infinitely better at it than him anyway.
As they entered the sparse space lit by darkrock lanterns, he was pleased to see that it hadn’t changed in his time away.
Rows of every kind of weapon imaginable lined the wall—axes, long swords, short swords, daggers, maces, war hammers.
Beautiful weapons, made by some of their most talented blacksmiths.
Ty usually brought his own weapons, but hadn’t had a chance to make a new axe for himself since his old one had been taken by the Occidens witches.
It would take a while to make a new one anyway, since that axe had been Imbued with runes that triggered his furor in any daemon or mortal who used it.
He absentmindedly hoped the witches never traded it to a mortal, or they’d be in for a rude awakening.
Beside him, he watched Ena as she took in the space. What would she make of this? He knew she wasn’t a fighter—not in a physical way, at least, and probably had never seen many of these weapons before. But he thought maybe she’d like to try.
Fighting hand-to-hand was a core part of daemonic culture.
All daemons were trained to fight from a young age—partially in preparation for future missions in which it might be necessary, but also because it was a great source of exercise underground, and a good outlet for daemons’ natural tendencies towards discord.
For what was violence if not chaos incarnate?
“What is this place?” Ena asked, eyeing the weapons on the wall with caution.
“A training facility,” Ty explained, walking over to them.
“So…a place for fighting?” Ena asked, raising her eyebrow in skepticism.
“Yes,” he replied, one corner of his mouth quirking up despite himself.
One day, he should maybe examine his compulsive need to challenge her and push her into new things, but she seemed to like it, or at least tolerate it, and he certainly liked it. He liked seeing what she could do, and he liked seeing how she would react, because she always surprised him.
Ena watched as Turner walked over and grabbed two short swords from the wall, testing the grips in his hand.
Ty, of course, grabbed an axe and dagger.
His preferred fighting style. They had long swords, of course, which could lend an advantage against an opponent with shorter weapons, but Ty’s training was practical.
Mortals and witches didn’t have weapons like that, and to carry around swords in polite company would be to draw too much attention, so he opted for axes and daggers, which were multi-use, and easier to pass off as tools, not weapons.
“Why?” she asked, her nose crinkling up a bit, as if the idea of fighting was foreign to her, which, he supposed, it was. She’d told him that their encounter with the bandits a few weeks ago had been the first time she’d ever had to fight or use her magic against anyone else.
“For fun, exercise…mental stimulation,” Turner answered for him, giving a shrug and smiling devilishly.
“You two are going to fight then?” Ena asked, seeming intrigued by the idea.
“What do you think, Shadow? Should we fight?” Ty asked Turner, teasing him with his old nickname.
Even though Turner was only about a year younger than Ty, they’d been inseparable as kids, with Turner following him around wherever he went. He’d earned the nickname “Shadow” from some of the other boys their age, and he knew the man hated it, so there was no better way to get his goat.
“You fucker.” Turner grinned at him, his blue eyes glinting in the light.
Ty laughed as he removed his shirt, tossing it to the side as he gripped his axe and entered the center of the large, intricately decorated circle carved into the floor of the cave. “Watch and learn, viper. You’re next,” he said with a wink before turning back to Turner.
The two of them circled each other, watching for who would move first. Ty reached out with his furor, just a touch, just to see where his cousin was at.
The man didn’t usually tend towards anger, but Ty would exploit what he could, just to give himself an edge in the fight.
The man might seem nice and well-mannered compared to other daemons, but he was ruthless in the ring, so he needed to take whatever advantage he could get.
Instead of the minor annoyance he was used to sensing in his cousin, he was surprised to sense a significant amount of untapped rage. What had happened? Ty furrowed his brow at his friend, who knew his tactics by now.
Turner shook his head slightly in response. He didn’t want to talk about it.
Alright, that made sense. It must have had something to do with Zak—when the utter prick wasn’t ignoring his son, he was constantly putting him down for his kindhearted nature and using him for his own ends. Something must have happened between them.
Ty backed off with his furor. He had no desire to get his ass kicked by his angry friend, and he didn’t want to exploit a real sore spot unless Turner asked him to—he knew from firsthand experience that it could be extremely cathartic to let that rage out from time to time, but he wouldn’t do it without Turner’s consent.
As if sensing his decision, Turner struck first. He whipped out with his short sword, swinging for Ty’s head, and Ty met his blow with his axe, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the cave.
Turner spun around and swung with his other sword, this time aiming for Ty’s middle, and Ty dodged it, again deflecting Turner’s strike away with the handle of his axe.
Seizing Turner’s momentary distraction, Ty pivoted and swiped out with his dagger—a beautiful sixteen-inch, decorated blade that he envied—but Turner caught his wrist, just inches from his neck.
But the man had been forced to drop one of his swords to do so, so now he only had one. Ty felt a feline grin spread across his face.
That was just a warm-up. Now came the fun shit.
He launched forward with his axe, forcing Turner to take a step back as he met Ty’s blow with his sword, which he now held with two hands.
“Want to yield, Shadow?” Ty taunted.
“Never, asshole,” Turner said, glee filling his voice.
Ty swiped out with his dagger again, but Turner dodged it. His heart pounded now, and his body felt alive with adrenaline.
This was what he fucking lived for.
Turner stabbed forward with the sword, low—a much harder move to block with his axe—but he managed to swipe it to the side.
If this were a real fight, and not just a spar, he would’ve thrown his axe right into the man’s skull and been done with it, but obviously that was not the goal here, so instead he swung his dagger at Turner’s throat, but the man was quick as a cat and pulled backwards, as Ty suspected he would.
Then Turner swung up with his sword, hitting the hilt of Ty’s dagger and knocking it from his hand, so only his axe remained.
A feral laugh bubbled up in Ty’s throat, and he saw an answering smile on Turner’s face. This was way too much fucking fun.
Then a delicate sound from outside the ring caught his attention, and he couldn’t help but look.
Ena was smiling widely at him, a gentle laugh having escaped her as she watched them. He could see the enjoyment written on her face, and as he breathed in deeply, his venator caught a whiff of—oh, fuck.
Was she turned on watching this? Her scent was different—deeper and muskier than normal, and as he breathed in again involuntarily, he could swear he caught the wet scent of her pussy in the air.
Capitalizing on Ty’s distraction, Turner swept forward, knocking Ty’s remaining weapon out of his hand, and the axe clanged to the floor.
“Fuck,” Ty lamented. “You got me.”
“I wouldn’t have if she wasn’t here,” Turner said, breathing just heavily as he was. “You should come every time. You’re quite the helpful distraction,” he said to Ena with a grin.